


A Torrent Affair

by babzilla



Series: ooey gooey singles [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Barebacking, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, Established Cody/Rex, Explicit Sexual Content, Gangbang, Group Sex, I Blame Tumblr, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, No men we die like beta, POV Outsider, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babzilla/pseuds/babzilla
Summary: To celebrate his first successful deployment and help him settle in to Ghost Company, Wooley gets invited to a veryspecialparty.—“Say hello to Wooley, Rex,” the Marshal Commander orders, eyes fixed low to where Wooley can’t see, though he’s sure it’s very interesting. “He’s one of my new Ghosts.”“H-hi,” the Captain stutters out after a moment, losing his grip on Wooley’s thigh with how he has to arch his back into the Commander’s hold on his hair, displaying the enticingly unblemished column of his neck.“Nice to meet you, sir,” Wooley says, because it’s true.This is, quite possibly, the best introduction he’s ever gotten. And he’s not likely to forget it anytime soon.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/CT-7567 | Rex, CT-5597 | Jesse/CT-6116 | Kix/CT-7567 | Rex, Crys/CT-7567 | Rex, Hardcase/CT-7567 | Rex, Wooley/CT-7567 | Rex, Wooley/Longshot
Series: ooey gooey singles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023142
Comments: 19
Kudos: 123





	A Torrent Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Established Cody/Rex with Rex being passed around among friends at a private party. Dom/sub undertones, aftercare shown. All consensual.

Wooley had never imagined that he’d warrant an invitation to the Officer’s lounge. He was a standard trooper; training as basic as basic went and no specialisations besides, and he’d never particularly stood out during all his time on Kamino. Getting assigned to the 212th Attack Battalion had been cause for excitement— just the thought of serving under a High General was enough to make him giddy at times, especially a High General as well regarded as General Kenobi!

Getting picked up for Ghost Company and seeing the General work his magic down on Ryloth…

Well, he hadn’t thought it could get any better than that.

But they were a few days past the Outer Rim now, having picked up _the_ Torrent Company on the way (supposedly back from a secret mission assigned personally by the Chancellor!) and Crys had stopped him in the hall outside the bunk room and asked if he wanted to tag along to the Officer’s lounge later that night. A few of the Officers would be relaxing during their well-earned downtime, Crys had explained with many more words than were needed to describe a friendly gathering and a whole lot of innuendo and eyebrow waggling. And because Commander Cody had thought he’d done well down on Ryloth, Wooley was welcome to join them— _and you haven’t really gotten the chance to settle in yet, have you, Wooley?_

There was no saying no to that— who knew if he’d ever get another invitation?

So, nervous and excited, Wooley had shined his armour with a single-minded focus until it was time to go while the rest of his bunkmates had inundated him with teasing suggestions for what he could do to secure a repeat invite and salacious rumours about things they’d heard about these little parties in the Officer’s lounge. He felt altogether too flustered by the end of it, and was glad for his bucket concealing his red face when he met up with Crys for the short walk down the Officer’s hall to the lounge.

The fact of the matter was: Wooley wasn’t very accustomed to having downtime in general, so if it happened to involve any of the more… _risqué_ activities his bunkmates had mentioned, then he was doubly glad for the opportunity. How many troopers could say that they’d gotten an invite to one of those parties?

Not that Wooley would go running his mouth about it! If this was, indeed, one of _those_ parties.

Which— it probably wasn’t! Wooley reasoned with himself, trying to fight down the blush building up under his bucket before he had to remove it as Longshot opened the door to the lounge to let him and Crys inside.

Wooley was as Shiny as they came, with only a single deployment under his belt and no colours on his hard-shell. It seemed a bit generous to invite him to a special party just because he’d done well on Ryloth…

He’d never be able to show his face on the _Negotiator_ again if he got his hopes up and embarrassed himself in front of the elite of both Ghost and Torrent Companies.

“Alright there, Wooley?” Longshot asks, snapping him out of his thoughts as he handed him a cup with an effervescent brown liquid inside.

He stared down at it for a moment, distantly registering it as being contraband and being quietly delighted to have the cup in his hand.

He could drink that. If he wanted.

“Can’t drink it with the bucket on, pal,” Longshot laughed, throwing an arm around Wooley’s shoulders and alerting him to the fact that he’d spoken his thoughts aloud.

Admittedly that was becoming a pattern but, bolstered by the mere fact that he was _in this room_ , he pulls his helmet off with a grin and raises the drink in thanks to Longshot.

“You don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to,” says Lieutenant Kix, Chief Medic for the 501st Legion. He’s reclining with a datapad in hand on the small, comfortably padded single-seater farthest from the door, squashed in with Lieutenant Jesse sitting across his legs, and Special Munitions Officer Hardcase perched on an armrest.

“It’s alright,” he says, shaking his head. He’s a little over-dressed as it is— at most, the others are wearing their lower plates but most of them are stripped down to casual blacks and their boots. Crys is already divesting himself of his upper armour and stacking it in the corner with the rest and Wooley ducks under Longshot’s arm to join him. 

His upper armour and helmet stand out among the line-up, bare white and unblemished, but he reassures himself that it won’t be long before he’s got colours of his own. With a touch of disappointment, he notes that neither Commander Cody, nor Captain Rex’s armour is lined up against the wall.

Perhaps they’re not coming, he has only a moment to think before Crys pulls him along to the largest couch, depositing him next to Longshot before he rounds the low table and takes the other unoccupied single-seater for himself.

Looking around the room he allows himself to sink into the soft padding contentedly, cataloguing the odd arrangement of seats around the low table—holding only a thin pillow, likely borrowed from the bunks—and a thicker cushion on the floor at one end, and the blankets scattered across the floor. The lights are turned down, low and comfortable after a day under the bright lights of the ship’s common areas, and there’s soft music playing from a playback unit set in the corner of the room— a mellow synthetic tune with a heavy reverb over a thumping beat, someone of indeterminate gender singing in a language he didn’t recognise. Besides the entry door, there are another two doors on either side of the room and he wonders if they’re for storage or if the rumours are true and Officers _do_ get their own private showers.

“So, how was your first time out, Shiny?” Hardcase asks, looking genuinely interested but not without a teasing glint in his eyes.

“It was good, sir,” he answers dutifully before taking a sip of the gently bubbling drink he had been given. It’s _sweet_ and mildly alcoholic, and it all but bites back as it works it’s way down his throat, and he immediately takes a second sip, savouring the taste.

“Ha!” The 501st Officer laughs, looking down at the Chief Medic for his Legion. “He called me sir!”

“I heard,” Kix replies, sounding practiced in his indulgent tone while Lieutenant Jesse snorts with amusement.

“I heard that he’s got a mouth on him,” Crys offers, smirking over the rim of his own cup.

As Longshot laughs beside him, Wooley straightens and leans forward, prepared to defend himself, but before he can form the words, the door behind the couch opens, catching everyone’s attention.

Turning with Longshot, Wooley has very little time to register what his eyes are telling him he’s seeing before Captain Rex is pushed over the back of the couch, Commander Cody keeping him down with a single hand pressed flat to his spine and the other gripping at the curve of a hip. It’s difficult to see from his vantage point, but with the way that the Commander grunts as he snaps his hips forward to meet the curve of the Captain’s ass and how the Captain himself gasps like he’s suddenly come back up for air after too long under water, Wooley can make an educated guess on what’s happening.

So this _is_ one of those parties, he thinks a little hysterically while hoping against hope that he hadn’t just said that out loud.

Blinking rapidly, Wooley looks down at where the Captain’s hand has landed on his thigh—gripping tight at the plastoid and trying to steady himself over the back of the couch with little success—and wishes he’d had the forethought to also strip down to nothing but his blacks and boots. Tracing the smooth line of muscles up the Captain’s arm, Wooley stares at the way his head hangs down, his shoulders visibly straining under the effort to maintain his balance even as the Commander sets a punishing pace to his thrusts, not allowing the 501st’s Captain a moment to catch his breath.

Swallowing thickly, Wooley holds on tightly to his cup—not knowing what else to do with his hands, what else he’s _allowed_ to do—and doesn’t dare move. The Captain is already struggling to maintain his precarious position, it didn’t seem fair to make it even harder for him.

But Commander Cody didn’t seem to be of the same mind.

When his superior officer turns to him, he can only turn away from the sight of the 501st Captain very slowly coming apart right in front of him _while holding onto Wooley’s thigh_ by virtue of the fact that he’s been trained for the entirety of his existence to pay attention when someone who can give him orders is looking at him.

“You alright there, Wooley?” The Commander asks, tone light and conversational and not at all sounding like he’s got his dick seven inches deep inside one of the most notorious Captains in the entire GAR.

“Sir, yes, sir!” He answers, resisting the urge to stand up and salute. He sounds almost as breathless as Captain Rex when the Marshal Commander slides his hand up the length of the Captain’s back to sink his fingers into the short hair at the back of his head, pulling him up forcefully and turning his head towards Wooley.

He can only stare as they make eye contact, the Captain’s gaze gone soft and unfocused as his mouth hangs open, making little gasping noises with each breath that’s thrust out of him.

“Say hello to Wooley, Rex,” the Marshal Commander orders, eyes fixed low to where Wooley can’t see, though he’s sure it’s very interesting. “He’s one of my new Ghosts.”

“H-hi,” the Captain stutters out after a moment, losing his grip on Wooley’s thigh with how he has to arch his back into the Commander’s hold on his hair, displaying the enticingly unblemished column of his neck.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Wooley says, because it’s true.

This is, quite possibly, the best introduction he’s ever gotten. And he’s not likely to forget it anytime soon.

“You can touch him, if you want,” the Commander says casually, letting go of the Captain’s hair as he lists to the side—unfortunately away from Wooley—to lay his head on Longshot’s shoulder.

Watching as the Captain buried his face in the comforting softness of Longshot’s undersuit, the other trooper’s hand coming up so he could card his fingers through that famous blond hair, grown out overlong during his last mission, Wooley knows that there’s nothing he’d like more, if only he knew where to start. This is quite a bit different to fumbling around in the bunks after lights out, or messing around in the showers when they’ve got a water allotment. The Captain, bent over the back of the couch and still visibly struggling to keep himself steady, is a lot to offer a guy like Wooley— eager, but without much experience.

Licking his lips, he drains his cup dry watching as Longshot uses his hold on the Captain’s hair to move him the same way that the Commander had, turning his head towards himself so he could capture the Captain’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss. He’s not ashamed to admit that he leans forward to get a better look, entranced by the way the Captain’s hands try to grab hold of Longshot as the Marshal Commander continues to pull him back onto his cock, grunting quietly with each thrust and singularly focused on how well the Captain seems to be taking it. 

It looks challenging—for Longshot to line up his lips with the Captain’s when he’s at the Commander’s mercy—but nobody’s complaining about the sight of the trooper softly laying kisses at the corner of the Captain’s mouth, across his cheekbones, at his temple. In fact, judging by how he can see cod-pieces being removed and blacks being loosened in his periphery, Wooley would say there were no complaints at all over the current arrangement.

But, again, the Marshal Commander seems to have a differing opinion on what’s acceptable as he leans over the Captain, laying his own biting kisses along the length of Captain Rex’s neck and up the curve of his ear. Wrapping a firm hand around the Captain’s throat, the Commander pulls the blond trooper upright, pressing the two of them together chest to back.

Wooley doesn’t know how the Commander manages it (perhaps it’s down to the ARC training the CC’s get?), but without breaking his stride or losing his rhythm he releases his hold on the Captain’s hip, and instead runs a proprietary hand down one smooth thigh to catch him behind the knee. He lifts the Captain’s leg in one easy motion, swinging it onto the back of the couch and drawing out a continuous, broken moan from Captain Rex’s lips in the process.

The new position puts the Captain on display even more thoroughly than before, the long line of his body stretched out and arching against the Marshal Commander. It’s compelling enough that they all take a long moment to watch the tight clench and release of the Captain’s abs; the way his cock, flushed a deep pink and slick with oil and pre-cum, bobs against his own stomach; the way they can see the Marshal Commander’s thick member thrust up into him again and again behind the shadow of his round balls.

Before he can second guess himself, Wooley sets aside his empty cup and turns in his seat, one hand outstretched to stroke along the straining thigh settled over the back of the couch and the other reaching up to run down the Captain’s chest until the two can meet around the root of his cock. The blond trooper moans, louder than before, and his dick jumps in Wooley’s hands as he rises up on his knees to stroke him with both hands.

“That’s it,” the Marshal Commander encourages, looking over Captain Rex’s shoulder and down the length of his body to where Wooley has got his hands on him. “You like it when one of my Ghosts is touching you?”

With the Commander’s hand fixed around his throat, the Captain can’t do much more than moan enthusiastically, his hips twitching forward into Wooley’s twisting, double-handed strokes. Looking up, he meets the Captain’s eyes again—not seeing the point in turning shy at this point in the game—and is rewarded with a loose, lopsided grin as the blond lets his eyes slide shut, tipping his head back to rest against the Marshal Commander’s shoulder.

“You want to get your mouth on him?” Crys asks, smirking playfully as he comes around the back of the couch to stand beside Commander Cody. Without any sense of shame, the robolobotomist takes the Captain’s hand and brings it to his own crotch— his cod-piece hanging loose and his blacks shoved down only far enough to free his hard cock. “I’ll hold him still for you.”

Licking his lips, Wooley draws back slightly to watch as Crys takes a moment to establish a rhythm, thrusting his hips forward into the ready cradle of the other blond trooper’s hand. Then, as promised, he takes the Captain in hand, stroking the slick cock once, slowly pulling back the foreskin and rubbing a thumb over the exposed glans before holding the shaft steady. 

Well, with an offer like that, Wooley could hardly refuse. He leans forward without hesitation, flattening his tongue as he runs it across the hot, leaking tip of the Captain’s member, trailing his lips over the glans in light, butterfly kisses.

Breathing deeply, surrounded by the musky smell of arousal offset with the scent of the sweet liquor lingering in the air, Wooley lets the rest of the room fade away. Bracing his hands on the Captain’s hips, he slowly lets his head bob lower and lower until he can feel the other trooper’s cock hit the back of his throat and he has to pull back, gasping through sloppy wet lips. Catching his breath, he kisses down the side of the Captain’s cock, noting faintly that at some point Longshot had been kind enough to unlatch Wooley’s lower armour and pull down his blacks for him. 

He whimpers, hips twitching forward aimlessly, suddenly aware of how hard he is, and again Longshot is considerate enough to wrap an unoccupied hand around his newly freed cock. Grateful for the relief, Wooley turns his head to give Longshot a better show as his tongue darts out to lathe over the smooth skin of the blond trooper’s balls before he works his way back up to the tip of the Captain’s cock. Closing his eyes again, he licks and sucks at the leaking tip, tasting the salty pre-cum and the clean, velvety soft skin underneath his tongue— the sweet remnants of the oil that had been smeared over the Captain’s member all but gone.

Catching Longshot’s eyes again, he tilts his head obligingly as he places one last kiss on the wet dick in front of him before he seals his lips around the flushed tip once more. Working his way down much more quickly this time, he bobs his head in long, gliding strokes, his tongue pressed flat along the underside of the Captain’s cock. 

He can feel when the Commander speeds up his own thrusts, the choked, keening moans from above his head increasing in volume, and—feeling adventurous—he frees one hand to fondle the heavy weight of the Captain’s balls before working his way lower. Stroking over the sensitive skin of the blond trooper’s perineum, where his fingers can just barely touch the Commander’s dick on the off-stroke, Wooley can feel the first sparks of the Captain’s approaching orgasm.

Not one to back down from a challenge—he’s Ghost Company now, the _Commander said so_ himself—he hollows out his cheeks as he works over the Captain’s dripping cock, pressing the pad of his thumb up between the blond trooper’s balls. Applying just enough pressure to the underside of his member as he takes it all the way down his throat for the first time, Wooley feels it when the Captain’s orgasm crashes over him, his dick twitching in Wooley’s mouth and balls tightening in his hand.

He stays in place as long as he can, swallowing down the hot come flooding his mouth and throat, but it’s not his preferred position and he pulls off too soon— the last shots of come landing across his face. The troopers watching cheer with good-natured mirth and, smiling, Wooley idly swipes a finger along his cheek, trying to wipe himself clean as he looks up at the Captain and Commander, trying to catch his breath.

Their faces are held close together, Captain Rex with his eyes closed and a dark flush high on his cheeks— his mouth open and wet like he’s just been kissed, and Commander Cody tracking every minuscule shift in his expression, his dark eyes intent.

“Did I say you could come, Rex?” The Marshal Commander grunts into the shell of the Captain’s ear, the hand not at the blond’s throat stroking softly over his flank despite his tone.

“Never said I couldn’t,” the Captain answers back without delay, his voice shaking slightly— though there’s no mistaking the smirk on his face.

“An oversight,” the Marshal Commander allows, tilting his head as he reaches for the utility belt he’s still wearing and retrieving what looks like a band of black silicone. “I’ll make sure to correct that.”

“I think that’s called entrapment, Commander,” Crys teases, as transfixed as the rest of them as they watch Commander Cody stretch the soft silicone ring over the Captain’s cock and balls, squeezing tightly at the swollen member when he’s done and pulling a desperate groan out of the blond in his arms.

With the cock ring secure, the Commander gently takes hold of the Captain’s knee again, lowering his leg so he’s got both feet on the ground before he bends him over the back of the couch for a second time.

The angle’s off for Wooley to get a good look but, leaning down behind the Captain while very obviously spreading his cheeks, the Commander looks incredibly pleased with what he sees.

“I think someone’s getting a bit uppity, running off on his own for secret missions and leaving the rest of us hanging,” the Commander says lightly, giving nothing away before his hand falls in a full-wind slap against the curve of the Captain’s ass. 

Encouraged by the sound of the Captain’s choked gasp against the couch cushions, the Commander shifts slightly, adjusting his angle to deliver two more strikes over the sensitive skin at the back of the blond’s thighs, and then dropping another heavy impact on the opposite cheek. Even with his face buried in the cushions, the Captain’s desperate whines can still be heard clearly in between the sound of the stinging blows, his hips shifting as he tries to squirm away, however ineffectually, by rising onto the tips of his toes and then back down, bending his knees but not getting very far on account of the backrest supporting his weight.

Finally tugging the Captain back upright with an arm around his chest and pinching roughly at a nipple, the Commander pulls his lover into a bruising kiss as his other hand travels back down to the Captain’s newly bound cock, still heavy with a dark flush and quickly growing hard again. Groaning, the Captain jerks his head away, breaking the kiss; breathing heavily, he holds on to the Commander’s wrists and pushes back against him. If he tilts his head, Wooley can see the Commander’s own slick cock rutting between the curve of the Captain’s ass cheeks, leaving wet smears over the soft skin. 

“Who’s got next?” The Commander asks casually, slapping the Captain’s ass again after he’s captured his lover’s lips for another searing kiss that still makes Wooley blush despite everything.

“Torrent!” Hardcase answers immediately, springing up from his perch on the armrest of Lieutenant Kix’s single-seater. A little surprised, Wooley notes that the trooper hadn’t moved at all since he’d come into the room— the only difference now was that, much like everyone else present, his hard dick was jutting out of his blacks, tip red and leaking pre-cum. The top half of his blacks were removed entirely to expose the deep blue geometric scrollwork tattoos running over every inch of his skin— from his neck to his wrists, and disappearing down into his leggings past his hips.

Intensely curious as to how things would play out now, he watched the tender way the Marshal Commander walked Captain Rex around the couch, a possessive hand on his hip as he led the blond to the low table before handing him off to Hardcase. Even then, the Commander didn’t stray very far, taking a seat on the floor beside the low table as Hardcase bent his Captain over the thin pillow topper, snagging another cushion from the single-seater behind him for the blond trooper to tuck under his chest and hold on to.

“Hey, look at me,” Longshot laughs, grabbing his hand and attempting to draw his attention away from the way Hardcase continued to prod at and rearrange his Captain to his own liking while the Marshal Commander stroked a hand possessively over the blond’s shoulders and back. The Commander’s other hand was otherwise occupied past the edge of the table where Wooley couldn’t see, though the steady up and down motion of his arm made it very clear what he was doing.

“I know he’s pretty, but you’ve made a mess,” Longshot tries again, grinning as he turns Wooley’s head away with a hand at his chin.

Right— he thinks, looking down at the remnants of the Captain’s come over his fingers, and his face—

“Come here,” Crys says, jumping over the armrest to settle behind Wooley, pulling him down to sit between his legs at the same time that Longshot takes his fingers into his mouth.

For a moment, Wooley doesn’t know where to look, caught between his two squadmates’ demands for his attention and the low murmuring from the Torrent boys, to the way he can hear the Captain’s soft gasps accompanied by the Commander’s gentle encouragement. The choice is ultimately taken out of his hands when Crys reaches around to grasp Wooley’s chin and bring him around for a hard kiss that very quickly turns to Crys licking around his mouth, and then up over his cheek and across the bridge of his nose, chasing the taste of the Captain’s pleasure painted on Wooley’s face. Longshot doesn’t seem to take getting his fingers flicked away personally, judging by the way his hot breath puffs against the palm of Wooley’s palm for a few moments before he guides the hand in his grasp down until Wooley can feel his pulsing erection.

He doesn’t need any hints about what he should do there.

Though he has to be a bit honest with himself in admitting that having so many _interesting_ things to look at going on around him does leave him little room to pursue his own pleasure. His dick is still hard—he knows he hasn’t come yet, not even close—but for the first time, his mind seems to be treating this as a distant fact to only be acknowledged rather than the priority while his body tries to strain between his two squadmates, indecisive over what should be his next move. In all his previous experience, personal pleasure had always been the first concern between sexual partners; on Kamino, during training, on deployment— sexual release was a convenience and time was a limited resource. You got yours where you could, then you reached out with a helping hand.

That wasn’t the case here— who cared about whether he was getting off when he could hear the soft slide of blacks against blacks as Lieutenants Jesse and Kix moved against each other just out of sight, when he could feel Crys’ hard cock settled at the small of his back through his shirt— when he could hear Captain Rex gasping so quietly into the cradle of his arms as Hardcase made obscene, wet noises behind him, his face pressed flush to the blond’s ass.

This was _new._

He liked it.

This realisation, however, didn’t help in deciding what he wanted to do.

He whines instead, sounding a little pathetic to his own ears, as he strokes Longshot’s cock in time with the rocking of his own hips, unsure if he wants to press back harder into Crys with his lower armour still on.

Behind him, Crys laughs, correctly guessing the cause of his distress. “Poor Shiny, don’t know what to do with yourself?”

Wooley grunts at that, frowning and displeased by the nickname since it’s technically not accurate anymore.

“Don’t worry, we got ya,” Longshot reassures, leaning forward and patting at a cuisse before expertly starting to detach the white plates. Behind him, Crys starts on the same and before long he’s been divested of all armour above the knees; his leggings pulled down his thighs so Longshot can take his neglected cock into his mouth and the top half of his blacks peeled off so Crys can single-mindedly mouth at the skin of his neck and shoulder, leaving him free to turn to watch the show still going strong on their right.

Half laying back against Crys, he’s almost level with the Captain— unable to see exactly what Hardcase is doing except when he comes up for air, the bottom half of his face glistening in the ship lights. Looking at the way the Captain squirms on the low table, occasionally held in place with a hand on the back of his neck, courtesy of the Marshal Commander, Wooley tries to imagine it.

With his bent posture over the table, his knees spread on cushions on the floor, the Captain is fully vulnerable and very much on display again— Wooley can see the way Hardcase holds firm ass cheeks separated, sinking his fingers into the soft flesh and kneading at the muscle every time he pulls back. Occasionally he will pause for a few minutes, fingers probing at the blond trooper’s hole and drawing broken little exclamations from the Captain as he tries to thrust his hips back— always prevented from doing so by the Commander tightening his hold on his lover, either physically pulling him back or delivering another smack against a quaking thigh.

Wooley can’t say that he’s ever been treated to a fuck as thorough as what the Captain’s experiencing now, but the thought of being taken roughly before an appreciative audience and then being painstakingly eaten out from behind is enough to send his pulse fluttering, his dick jumping in Longshot’s hands. 

Watching the Captain press his forehead to the table beneath him, hands constantly shifting against the smooth surface as he desperately tried to find some leverage against Hardcase’s ministrations, Wooley can’t help but wish for a moment that he was in the blond trooper’s place instead. The picture his mind conjures at that thought is enough to set his hips to a jerky, rocking rhythm, and Longshot takes immediate advantage, leaning forward to take him deeper into his mouth until the head of Wooley’s cock hits the back of his throat.

He has to tear his eyes away from the show at that, staring down at the crown of Longshot’s head nestled between his splayed thighs— the similarity to what he had done for the Captain too close for him to be able to keep a cool head and he comes unexpectedly with a shout.

He floats, breath caught in his throat—fingers and toes tingling and his ears ringing for a moment as his cock twitches in Longshot’s mouth—before Crys pinches his nipples and jolts him back to earth with a gasp. Leaning back on Crys’ shoulder, head tilted towards the ceiling, he breathes in huge gulps of air, the shock of the sudden orgasm and the unfamiliar intensity of it shaking him to his core.

Across the low table, the Marshal Commander catches his eye, tilting his head curiously with a smirk that clearly says he knows exactly what Wooley was thinking about as he went over the edge.

Blushing furiously, he lowers his gaze and instead makes eye contact with the Captain.

For lack of a better word, he looks _wrecked—_ a soft flush visible high on his cheeks, wet mouth parted as his heavy breathing mists up the cold surface beneath him, the sweat beading on his skin giving him a soft sheen in the low lights. He only blinks back lazily at Wooley, a hand repeatedly curling into a fist and then uncurling again. He’s very quiet, Wooley can’t help but think, and that only makes the sounds that do escape him even more thrilling— all soft gasps and little humming noises as the Captain lets anyone willing to step up to do as they like to him.

Raising his head slightly, Wooley tries to crane his neck to catch a better glimpse of Hardcase who is still diligently applying himself to the task of tongue-fucking his Company Captain.

“You want to see?” Crys asks, peeking over his shoulder, and Wooley can only nod, still flushed and breathless.

With an efficiency borne of long practice and teamwork in the field, Crys and Longshot quickly manage to get him up on his knees before swapping places with each other. Leaning forward on his knees with Longshot behind him and cushioned by Crys’ thighs in front of him, Wooley now has the perfect angle to watch Hardcase pour more oil over his cock, generously coating his shaft before wiping the excess onto Captain Rex from tailbone all the way down to the back of his balls.

He watches as the Torrent Company trooper reaches between his Captain’s legs, stroking at his swollen, desperately flushed cock once, twice, until the blond trooper gives in and releases a quiet, dragging moan. He no longer tries to push back into the feeling, despite the fact that Wooley can see him turn his head, his brows furrowed and expression soft with open wanting as he looks back over his shoulder at Hardcase. The Munitions Officer doesn’t pay him any mind though, stroking his cock one more time before pulling it back and nudging the Captain’s legs back together— trapping the Captains bound cock and balls against the back of his own thighs.

Hardcase swears quietly at the sight, leaning back slightly to inspect his work, both palms laying flat against the Captain’s ass as he squeezes the rounded cheeks together and then apart again, the blond trooper’s hole visibly clenching in time with the motions.

“Best ass in the GAR, ain’t that right, Commander?” Hardcase declares, turning to the Marshal Commander for his agreement.

“All that limmie has to be good for something,” he shrugs, smirking as he looks down at his lover— who pointedly doesn’t turn his head to look back at him. 

“No need to sulk,” the Commander laughs quietly, leaning down to lay a soft kiss against the Captain’s shoulder even as he raises a hand to his lover’s ass, sinking two fingers into his hole down to the second knuckle and curling them without any warning, eliciting a strangled yelp from the blond trooper. “I’m very grateful for what all that activity does for your ass.”

The Captain buries his face in his arms again, rather than answer with anything but his rough, open-mouthed inhalations, causing the Commander to laugh again. Slowly removing his fingers, the Commander drags them slightly against his lover’s overstimulated rim before giving a nod for Hardcase to go ahead.

But when Hardcase’s hand comes down on his ass with a sharp, ringing sound the Captain hisses, half turning to slap back at the hand hovering for another strike. That causes a wave of teasing laughter to ripple around the circle, as the other troopers (friends— they’re all _friends,_ Wooley reminds himself) snicker at Captain Rex’s pissy expression.

“Not a fan unless it’s the Marshal Commander, Captain?” Hardcase asks, his grin unmistakable in his voice as he grips Captain Rex’s hips, leaning over his back with his head tilted to catch the Captain’s eyes.

For his part, Rex huffs and rolls his eyes, though he says nothing, which Wooley bets is on account of how his cheeks have reddened again with a deeper flush.

Shaking his head irreverently, Hardcase can’t resist another gentle smack—laughing and apologising in the same breath when the Captain makes another sound of complaint—before he presses the rounded cheeks together again, lining up his cock against the crease of the Captain’s ass and thrusting.

Wooley sighs, resting his cheek against the curve of Crys thigh as he watches the Munitions Officer work his cock between his Captain’s ass cheeks, the oil creating a smooth, seamless glide. At his back, Wooley can feel Longshot’s own oiled up cock, teasing at his hole. He hopes suddenly, with all the conscious thought left in his lust-hazy brain, that Longshot plans to fuck him exactly like Hardcase is fucking the Captain.

“Well, maybe not _exactly_ ,” Longshot laughs as he reaches between Wooley’s legs, smearing oil on the insides of his thighs, and alerting him to the fact that he’d spoken his thoughts aloud again.

For a moment, Wooley buries his face against Crys’s thigh in embarrassment but the trooper is having none of it, twining his fingers through his short hair and pulling him back up.

“Hey, now— you wanted to watch the Captain get fucked. If you’re not even going to look, I’ve got a perfectly good dick right here waiting to be sucked,” he says, scratching at Wooley’s scalp.

He’s right, _he’s right—_ and Wooley has a moment of panic as he flounders between wanting to watch what else Hardcase is planning to do to Captain Rex and getting Crys’ cock in his mouth, but Longshot cuts in again, laughing.

“Oh, don’t be mean to him— it’s his first party, let him watch,” he says, thrusting between Wooley’s slick thighs and teasing at his hole with well-oiled fingers.

Crys tuts jokingly above his head, but lets him settle against his thigh again, brushing his fingers through Wooley’s hair as they both watch how Hardcase presses his cock down between the crease of his Captain’s ass with his thumb. Wooley doesn’t know what logic or pattern he’s following but occasionally, on the off-stroke, he’ll pause when the tip of his cock presses against the Captain’s hole. Then slowly, slowly he applies more pressure with his thumb against his own shaft until the head of his cock disappears inside the Captain’s hole.

He doesn’t thrust in any further, though where he finds the self-control for that, Wooley can’t say— he certainly wouldn’t be able to resist. But he’ll stay there for an agonising moment before pulling back and doing it again, watching with intense focus as the tip of his cock pushed slowly into the Captain again and again before he went back to thrusting the length of his hard cock between the blond trooper’s oiled ass cheeks.

To Wooley’s vocal delight, Longshot quickly starts copying the pattern— thrusting between Wooley’s thighs in time with Hardcase and fingering his ass whenever Hardcase stops, curling his fingers slowly until they brush against his prostate.

“Are you planning to take all night, ‘Case?” Lieutenant Jesse asks sharply after a few rounds of this torturous routine. From the corner of his eye, Wooley can see that the two Lieutenants are still very much wrapped up in each other, their hands busy in their soft explorations, but with their attention fully concentrated on their Captain.

“Don’t—” Hardcase grunts, not looking up. “— _rush_ me.”

But despite his words, it’s only another two strokes before he’s grunting again, hastily pushing his cock inside Captain Rex and drawing a startled yelp out of the blond trooper as this time he pushes all the way in with a protracted groan. He pulls out a moment later, breathing heavily as he strokes his cock in fast, short motions as he continues to come over the Captain’s slick hole before leaning forward one last time to meticulously lap up the streaks of come he’d left there.

“Hardcase can’t come unless someone’s mad at him,” Kix snickers when he catches Wooley tilting his head in question at the two Torrent Lieutenants.

“Fuck you,” Hardcase fires back immediately as he sits back on his heels, his face and neck turning a deep red— and not because of his recent orgasm.

“Mmm, later— if you’re good,” the Medic smirks, finally getting up from his seat.

Wooley doesn’t miss the way Hardcase’s softening cock visibly twitches at that, even as the man himself aims a rude gesture at the Torrent Company medic as he vacates his spot behind Captain Rex to make way for Lieutenant Jesse.

The two Lieutenants waste no time positioning their Captain exactly as they want him, working in tandem to turn him over on the low table until he’s lying crossways on the surface; Jesse taking his place between the blond trooper’s legs while Kix supports the Captain’s neck on the very edge of the table.

“Been having fun without us, Captain?” Kix asks, smiling down at his superior officer.

In answer, Captain Rex only stretches languorously with a pleased smirk, arching his back and kicking one leg up high. Jesse doesn’t waste the opportunity, grabbing the Captain’s leg and throwing it over his shoulder.

“Don’t mind if we make this quick, right, Captain?” Jesse asks, lining up his oiled up cock with the Captain’s pink hole. The two Lieutenants have spent the entire night playing with each other, and Wooley can see now that it won’t take them long to reach their peak.

“I can time you, if you want,” Hardcase snipes from where he’s taken Kix’s empty seat, sprawled sideways across the single-seater and idly groping at his own cock as he watches Jesse slowly thrust forward until his hips were flush against the Captain’s ass.

“Be quiet,” Kix shoots over his shoulder, freezing Hardcase in place with a helplessly aroused look on his face, before looking back down at his Captain.

With one hand wrapped around the back of the Captain’s neck and the other guiding his cock, Kix keeps his eyes on his superior officer as he slowly traces the tip of his cock over the blond trooper’s lips, waiting for him to open his mouth before he also starts thrusting forward.

“Ready, Captain?” Kix asks, perfectly composed despite how he’s got his cock all the way down Captain Rex’s throat.

“He’s ready,” the Marshal Commander confirms in his stead, holding the Captain’s hand and entirely focused on the way his lips wrapped around the Torrent medic’s cock.

With a jaunty salute, Jesse sets off at a steady pace, placing a hand at the Captain’s opposite knee and pushing down and out to well and truly open him up. At the other end of the table, Kix picks a similar pace, letting the Captain take his cock all the way down his throat before pulling back until the blond trooper has to chase after the tip with his tongue, before pushing back in. The two of them move in perfect synch; with Kix thrusting forward as Jesse pulls back, they don’t give their Captain any room to breathe between the opposite sensations.

The Captain takes it all without complaint, clutching tightly to the Commander’s hand and letting his two Lieutenants do as they liked as they chased after their release.

It’s fun to watch, Wooley thinks, not least because while none of them are strangers to the clone army’s meticulous standards for unit cohesion, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen that efficiency applied in _this_ way before.

He wonders if they fell into the pattern naturally, or if it was something they decided to do consciously.

Either way, as Wooley had guessed, both Lieutenants were already primed to fire. And it doesn’t take long at all until Jesse’s groaning as he shrugs the Captain’s leg off his shoulder and leans forward to meet Kix halfway, exchanging a filthy kiss as Captain Rex’s fists clench and unclench beneath them, his hand almost fluttering in the Commander’s hold.

Keeping up with the theme of the night, Longshot makes sure to curl his fingers just right as the Torrent Lieutenants come, brushing against his prostate with just enough pressure to tease at the possibility of another orgasm— the muscles at the back of Wooley’s thighs jumping at the feeling. He’s close again, he can feel it as his eyes fall shut on the sight of Kix pulling his dripping wet cock out of the Captain’s mouth. Squeezing his thighs together, tightening his hold on Longshot, Wooley tries to push back into the feeling but Longshot simply pulls out his fingers entirely, leaving him feeling empty with a frustrating ache low in his belly.

Laughing, Crys loosens Wooley’s fingers from around his thigh one by one and brings their hands up to wrap around his cock, stroking together.

“Might wanna open your eyes, Wooley,” he whispers conspiratorially, like he’s sharing a great secret, and Wooley heeds his advice— his eyes snapping open just in time to see the Commander lean over his lover, the Torrent Lieutenants having retreated now that they were done with their Captain.

With singular focus, the Marshal Commander’s fingers gently circle the blond trooper’s hole, dipping in shallowly and coming back out covered in white— the evidence of Hardcase and Jesse having fucked the Captain. With a hooded gaze, the Commander wipes his fingers on the Captain’s thigh before slipping his fingers inside him again, slowly removing the other troopers’ seed from his lover with meticulous care before smearing the remains on the blond’s thighs.

When there’s nothing left inside the Captain, leaving the blond almost sobbing with want as he tries to thrust his hips up, chasing his lover’s fingers, the Commander uncaps the bottle of lubricant again, covering the blond’s achingly hard cock generously in oil. 

“Stay still,” the Marshal Commander orders when Captain Rex’s hands try to come up, reaching for his still bound cock and balls.

The Captain obeys, though not without uttering a rough sob— the sound escaping his lips as if it was punched out of him as tears gather at the corner of his eyes.

“Be good, love,” the Commander soothes indulgently as he spread his hands over the length of the Captain’s belly, over his bound cock, and down his spread thighs to massage in the mess of oil and cum into his skin until his every quivering movement left him glistening under the low lights. 

“We’re almost done,” he reassures gently, spreading the oil over his lover’s skin in soft, broad strokes until he was satisfied with the picture the Captain presented before him.

Not wasting any time once the blond was oiled up to his liking, the Commander rose up on his knees and sheathed himself to the hilt in the blond’s ass in one stroke, pulling another broken sob from the blond’s lips. As he held the Captain’s legs folded up to his chest while he claimed another kiss, his tongue delving deep past the blond’s swollen lips, Wooley is so distracted by the sight that he almost misses how he can feel the tip of Longshot’s cock nudge against his hole, slowly pushing in.

It’s not quite fair, Wooley thinks desperately as he gasps through the sensation, hips helplessly twitching back into Longshot’s hold. This is worse than when Hardcase had started in on the Captain, but now the level of distraction is beyond intolerable and Crys and Longshot were not being even slightly sympathetic towards Wooley’s plight.

Wooley doesn’t think he says that out loud, but his head feels very full and he’s not sure if those quiet pleading noises are coming from him or Captain Rex, and the other Ghost Company troopers laugh, regardless. Distantly, he wonders if they’d ever been in the same position, how these parties all started, but then Longshot snaps his hips forward in a particularly sharp thrust and Wooley temporarily sees stars as he comes for the second time in as many hours. It’s all too easy to fall over that sharp precipice again, after being kept on the edge for so long.

Burying his face in Crys’ hip again, he groans as the hot, fuzzy feeling spreads through his entire body like pins and needles, tingling all the way to the tips of his fingers as Longshot’s thrusts quickly become erratic until he too groans out his release, spilling his hot come inside Wooley. Not to be outdone, Crys pulls him back up with a grunt, tightening his hand around Wooley’s as they stroke his cock together and he comes over his face in short order, head tilted back to the ceiling as his shoulders heave with every deep inhalation.

He spends a few minutes just breathing as Longshot pulls out slowly, helping Crys manoeuvre his body once again so that he’s lying comfortably on the blond as he gently wipes his face clean with the edge of a blanket. Similarly settling over Wooley’s back, Longshot sighs deeply, loose and sated, as the three of them settle in to watch the Commander and his lover.

The Marshal Commander has the Captain at the very edge of the low table, his dick pumping fast and deep into the blond trooper’s over-sensitised hole, and to Wooley’s eyes it doesn’t look as if he’s slowed down for a moment. The muscles of the Commander’s back stand out in sharp relief under the low lights as he bears his weight down on his lover, bending him almost in half and holding him in place as he fucks into him with abandon. Beneath him, the Captain barely makes a sound; his eyes squeezed shut and his lips, red and shiny, parted in a breathless gasp. Small whines and inhalations escape him only in response to the Marshal Commander’s voice, saying words that Wooley can’t make out over the quiet music still playing in the background.

The Commander keeps at it, not breaking stride or losing momentum for a second as he lets go of the Captain’s legs to grip him tightly by the hips, bodily pulling him down onto his cock in a way that the Captain is helpless to escape, allowing the Commander to use him as he wished. In contrast to the rough treatment, the Commander makes sure to lean back down frequently, kissing his lover much more sweetly than he has at any other point in the night.

Wooley wonders how he’s doing it, how he can possibly _maintain_ this rhythm for what seems like a small eternity, panting and grunting over his lover, staring down at his face with singular focus. It has to be the way they make the CCs, it _has_ to be.

The Commander kisses his way down Captain Rex’s neck, sucking marks onto the glowing skin, kissing him from shoulder to shoulder, and down his chest until he reaches the Captain’s nipples. He lays a lingering kiss on one before moving to the other, kissing the pebbled flesh tenderly before taking it into his mouth. The Captain cries out at the new torment, a leg twitching reflexively as he tries to thrust his hips to match the Commander’s rhythm, his movements gone past the point of desperation.

With a growl, the Marshal Commander releases Captain Rex’s nipple, using his hold on his hips to tug him forward and up as he leans back, all the while never letting his dick leave his lover’s body. In a seamless movement, he’s got the Captain sitting in his lap, lifting him up and dropping him back down on his cock with no visible effort.

“ _Oh, fuck_ ,” the Captain swears emphatically, clinging to the Marshal Commander’s shoulders in an effort to steady himself and failing utterly. “ _Cody—_ ”

He gasps again, “Cody!”

“Come on,” the Commander breaths, staring up at his lover’s face. “Come on, give it to me.”

The Captain cries out, his thighs flexing as he unconsciously tries to rise off of the Commander’s dick; his hands fluttering over his lover’s shoulders, unable to decide between holding on or pushing away as his body shook involuntarily; his toes curling in the blankets beneath them. Just visible between their bodies, the Captain’s bound cock twitches as he comes untouched, the blond trooper gasping and grunting through his clenched teeth, all the muscles in his abdomen jumping as if electrified while his cock spurted come again and again in an intense orgasm.

Through it all, the Commander doesn’t take his eye off of the blond, gamely thrusting up into him even as his lover shook and cried out, tears gathering in his eyes again as pleasure no doubt flirted at the edge of pain, a sensation that Wooley imagined was _achingly_ sweet. Only when the Captain has gone still and pliant again, his blond head resting on his lover’s shoulder, does the Marshal Commander lay him back down with a brief kiss to his lips.

Then, letting him go only long enough to carefully remove the silicone band that had been fitted around the Captain’s cock and balls, the Commander takes up a much slower pace, rolling his hips gently into his lover.

“Can you do that one more time, love?” he asks, wrapping a hand around the Captain’s swollen, red cock.

His only answer is a strangled yelp, the Captain’s hands coming up quickly to grip the Commander’s shoulders at the same time that he tries to draw his knees up to his chest again. This time the Commander is in the way, his torso like a wall of muscle pressing down on the blond trooper as he stroked his slick cock.

“Cody, please, I can’t,” the Captain begs breathlessly, his voice small and choked.

“Yes, you can,” the Marshal Commander insists, tugging on his lover’s cock more forcefully and receiving another wordless sob, the Captain jerking uncoordinatedly in his hold. “That’s it, see— you can do it. One more time, Rex, come on.”

Shaking his head as he stared up at the ceiling, his chest heaving with his stuttering gasps for breath, the Captain sinks his fingers into the Commander’s short hair, visibly trying to anchor himself as his lover continues to roll his hips forward slowly. Then, finally, with a frustrated grunt, the Captain tightens his hold on the Commander; his upper body rising as he wraps his legs around his lover’s waist in a full-body curl as he holds the Commander still while fucking himself on his cock.

The Marshal Commander curses, finally falling out of rhythm as he ground his hips against the curve of his lover’s ass, breathing erratically as he wrapped an arm around the blond’s back and kissed any part of him he could reach. Wooley can see that he’s still got a hand wrapped around the Captain’s cock, rolling the sensitive glans between his fingers as the shaft twitches against his palm.

Now, with the Captain directing the pace, the Commander bends obligingly towards his lover, capturing his lips with hard, closed-mouth kisses as he simply holds the blond close and lets him do what he wants to reach one last peak.

“Cody—” the Captain gasps, stilling as he pressed his forehead to the Commander’s, loosening his hold only enough to allow his lover to thrust up shallowly again, finally falling into orgasm with a choked sound.

With great, heaving breaths, the Marshal Commander curls down into his lover, burying his face against the blond’s collarbones, his hips still working unconsciously as he comes inside the Captain, drawing him closer with each breath.

They look like they’re trying to sink into each other, to become one being with shared lungs, a single beating heart, and Wooley has to look away, feeling as if he’s intruding on a private moment between the lovers. Around the room, the others are similarly averting their eyes, not discomfited by the display but letting the two of them savour the moment.

Shifting slowly, both Ghost and Torrent Company troopers start to gather themselves up, slowly getting up and collecting the various bits and pieces that are scattered around the room. Kix drapes a blanket over the Commander’s shoulders on his way to the opposite side of the room, tapping at the access pad on the wall to open the door to what is undoubtedly the Commander’s bedroom. 

The Commander himself doesn’t acknowledge any of the movement around him as he sets about easing the Captain back onto the edge of the low table, laying soft kisses over the blond’s face as he slowly pulls out, gently shushing his lover when he makes a noise of protest. When Hardcase holds out a cup in his line of sight, the Commander spends a few long minutes coaxing his lover back upright before taking it, holding it steady as he urges the Captain to drink.

Behind him, Wooley can feel Longshot gently wipe at the mess between his thighs, cleaning up the dribble of cum that had dripped out of him as they had watched the Commander take care of his lover.

“Alright, Wooley?” Crys asks, levering him up by the shoulders and he hums back in answer, his limbs feeling like rubber.

“C’mon,” Longshot says, nudging his shoulder gently. “Trust me, you’ll want a shower right now.”

That suitably perks up his sleepy mind. “So, officers _do_ have private showers,” he says before he can stop himself.

“Yeah,” Jesse calls from far behind the couch, his voice echoing in the otherwise empty wet room. “So get in here, Shiny— the Commander’ll catch up.”

“Can we still call him a Shiny?” Crys asks, helping him stand with a hand on either side of Wooley’s flanks, thumbs rubbing small circles against his ribs.

“We’re not having this debate again,” Kix interrupts, adjusting the cushions around his Captain and draping a second blanket over the blond’s shoulders on his way to the showers. “Commander, I’ve turned up the heating in there, take your time.”

The Marshal Commander doesn’t do much more than nod in response, still focused on helping his lover take small sips from the cup he’s holding for him and with his free hand gently massaging the Captain’s lower back.

As Longshot and Crys lead him around the couch and into the showers, Wooley’s last sight of the lovers is of the Captain leaning forward, a small smile on his face as he tips his face down for a kiss. Without hesitation, the Commander pushes up to grant it, also smiling.

It’s a sweet thing to end on, Wooley thinks happily. The entire night had been more than he’d ever expected, more than he could have hoped for; but the experience had also opened his eyes up to more than just the simple pleasures that a standard clone in the GAR could experience. 

He was glad that his squadmates had shared this evening with him, and he was eager to pay it forward in the future.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Well. This certainly happened, huh.
> 
> If you see any errors, let me know 😩


End file.
